For Mature Readers Only
by Mujamo
Summary: Neverending Story Stressed, depressed, and feeling alone in the world, Bastian is pulled back into the world of imagination to once again save Fantasia and the Empress, and perhaps take a break from reality. DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

A/N/D: 'The Neverending Story' doesn't belong to me. I haven't watched it in several years, actually, so I must apologize for inaccuracies and such. I also don't remember much from the sequels, so elements from the sequels are only briefly mentioned. This story will, however, keep in mind the animated series on HBO Family. Dunno why, I just like it. It's also an excuse to get Bastian and the Childlike Empress together...which I figure has been done already, but so what? I don't read Neverending Story fics, to be honest. I just felt like writing one. And while there *might* be a NC-17-rated scene later in the story, there's nothing rated NC-17 in this chapter, despite what you may think from reading the title ^_^

For Mature Readers Only 

_A Neverending Story...story_

            It was a time of great evil.  A time of war and pestilence.  It was a time of darkness and despair.  Yet the sun still shone upon the people whose lives were involved so deeply with all of it raging around them that they had begun to close their eyes to the world.  The darkness was inside their hearts.  The despair had become their breath.  The war was with each other.  And the evil was that no one cared.  

_            In that time, there was a hero.  But he was not known as a hero, for no one knew what he had done.  Not one cared, and not one had been changed by his efforts, except the ones who had so desperately called upon him to save their world.  The hero remained in ruin, himself, unchanged by his deeds.  He felt as though all were lost…_

Bastian sighed, laying his pen down with a 'clink' on his desk, the dark circles under his eyes making them seem even more hollow and dark in the dim light of his lamp.  Night was usually his best time to write, but tonight his mind was on other things.  He read the words that he had just written, having wanted to start a new novel, and realized that it was the start of his own story.  An autobiography.  

            He snorted softly, reading the word, 'hero'.  "I'm no hero," he said to himself, suddenly wanting to crumple the piece of paper and toss it away.  But he couldn't bring himself to do it.  He wanted, instead, to lay his head down on the desk and cry.  Unfortunately, all emotion seemed beyond him, having sobbed for countless hours in the last week.  His eyes felt dry and stinging, as though the floodgates were about to be opened, but no tears would fall, not anymore.

            He was useless.  Or at least, he felt useless.  His life was nothing like he'd imagined it to be when he was a child, so full of dreams and the vision of a brighter future.  After all, he was the boy who had once saved the dreams and wishes of everyone on the planet, wasn't he?  He restored memories to the people of Fantasia.  He even rode a dragon.  Not many children could have said that.  He had felt special.  Wanted.  Heroic!

            But he no longer felt heroic.  It had been years since he'd picked up the Neverending Story and found his way back into that land of dreams, ready to conquer whatever obstacle came his way.  He was no longer a boy in any respects.  He now realized why adults lost their hopes and forgot their dreams.  Reality was simply too hard to bear at times.  Even when he had an escape merely a foot away from him, safely tucked in between his tattered, dog-eared copy of "The Lord of the Rings" and a hardback limited edition copy of Stephen King's "The Stand".  The book blended in so nicely that he had forgotten it was there.  Admittedly, he had forgotten about Fantasia completely, sometimes, only to be reminded of it at the most inopportune times.  

            It was amazing how often he was reminded of it, actually, now that he thought about it.  He thought of the time that the little blond-haired girl with the dark green eyes had looked up at him in the grocery store and smiled at him with such an angelic smile, it had reminded him so sharply of the Childlike Empress that he'd had to blink…had there been tears in his eyes?  And the time that he'd been absently flipping through his American History book during class and come across the picture of a handsome, dark-skinned warrior with shoulder-length black hair, sitting astride a beautiful white stallion.  Bastian had, at the time, wondered what Atraiu was up to, and briefly pondered getting out the book to find out for himself.  

            But something had stopped him.  Something that he still wasn't sure of…something that perhaps had something to do with the fact that his self-esteem had not increased, as it had after each of his adventures, but decreased with each realization that his life was going nowhere.  His father was dying from cancer.  His step-mother and step-sister were constantly at odds with Bastian about anything and everything, as though he was suddenly not good enough.  His grades at college were slipping, and it was his fourth year.  He was an aspiring fantasy writer, but his thoughts were too distracted to formulate any plots worth expanding on.  His social life was, to say the least, _non-existent.  _Sometimes he wondered if he still had on the Invisibility Belt.

            On second thought, perhaps he was reminded of Fantasia when he most needed to be.  

            Which made him feel extremely guilty.  Just as he sat there at his desk, thinking about a way to escape from his life, his father's life was drifting away at the hospital.  Soon, Bastian would have one less person who truly understood him and accepted him the way he was.  Shy, skinny, anti-social Bastian would be forced to remain with his loud, opinionated, popular sister and her doting mother.  While Bastian never truly disliked either of them, he did somehow dislike the fact that Anna, his step-sister, sometimes did try very hard to impress him or at least bore him with her endless prattle about her endless problems at school, with her friends, or recent break-ups.

            Bastian often withdrew into the world of writing to escape from the world around him, but apparently even that did little good anymore, as he found himself writing about…_himself_.  

            Evidently, a lack of self-esteem didn't stop one from dwelling on his own life.

Even college wasn't the heaven that he'd dreamed it would be.  He smiled a little at the mention of dreams in his fleeting thoughts, but that thought was ruefully replaced by a grimace as he remembered that he had an Astronomy exam the next morning.  He glanced at the clock.  3:00 am.  Lovely, he thought.  Just lovely.  He had exactly five hours to study and perhaps get some sleep.

            Two hours later, just as he was drifting off to sleep, thinking about how nice it would be to see the stars from the Ivory Tower, he thought he heard a soft voice whispering faintly in the distance.  Groggily, he blinked and looked around.  Nothing.

            Perhaps on instinct, he looked over at the Book.  It was glowing.  Somehow that didn't surprise him, and in his exhausted state he briefly wished that it would stop and let him rest.  He couldn't go now, he had an exam.  No…he couldn't go.  He had more important things to do…

            But the voice, that soft voice that seemed to reach around him and caress the back of his head like a gentle massage, also seemed to penetrate his tired and fogged mind.  He could barely make out the words…bits and pieces floating as if in a fragmented sentence.

            _"Bastian…"_

"No," he mumbled, blinking his half-closed eyes, glaring at the Book as he tried desperately to keep his head up.  "No…I can't go…"

            _"Please…need you…help us…"_

"Can't help anymore," he mumbled, matching the garbled words with his own.  He sleepily noted that this would be funny if he weren't so tired…having an argument with a book.  Almost like old man Coreander, he thought, and a smile came to his lips.

            But also, in the back of his mind, he knew that the Empress was calling to him, something she never did unless he was needed.  She hadn't called for him in at least ten years…what could she possibly need now?  Bastian sneered without realizing it, and briefly thought that if she hadn't needed him before, she wouldn't need him now.  What could he, an adult, do for a land so clearly reserved for the innocence and blind faith of children?  Did he even believe in Fantasia anymore?

            _"Please, Bastian…"_

But he could never ignore her voice.  Not now, not ever, no matter how much he might deny it.  And he could not ignore the note of desperation in her voice, even as faint as it was.  Of course, all of this could be a dream, but if it were, surely he would not be afraid of going over and getting the book to make sure that she _wasn't_ calling to him.  Yawning, with much reluctance, he stood shakily to his feet and took only a few steps to the bookcase.  He gingerly pulled the book out of its resting place and held it in his hands for a moment as an oddly mixed feeling of fear, euphoria, and even a sense of peace swept over him.  

But much more was the feeling that he'd missed out on so much, and that it would take him a _long_ time to catch up.

            Suddenly shaking even more than before, he sat back down at his desk and, taking a deep breath, opened the book to exactly the right spot.  Of course, the words were magically writing themselves on the half-blank page, and Bastian read with as much clarity as he could muster while still feeling exhausted and confused.

            Reading aloud, he spoke, "The empress, not quite sure what to do, called upon the Child once more to help Fantasia in its dilemma.  But what she did not know, or perhaps did not realize, was that the Child was no longer…"

            He frowned, and yawned again, unable to read more as he laid his head down on the book.  He sighed in frustration.  "What do they mean, 'I'm no longer'?" 

            And he fell asleep.

***

            Hands.  Soft, gentle hands were touching his face, feeling much like a caress.  Fingers rubbed in circles on his forehead, which was now pounding in a full-blown headache.  He felt like he'd hit his head on a rock, and vaguely registered in his pain-filled mind that he was, in fact, lying on the ground.  The rest of his body felt it, too…as though he'd been lying there for awhile.  Some part of his mind also told him that he wasn't supposed to be lying on the ground; hadn't he fallen asleep at his desk?  

            Sighing, he refused to open his eyes, willing whoever was rubbing his aching head would continue, knowing that if he opened his eyes, he or she would stop.  However, his surroundings were drilling more and more into his awareness, or lack thereof, and he began to notice a funny smell, almost like the chemistry lab at school, the air faintly smelling of medicines and chemicals.  Odd…

            And then, he heard a voice whisper, "Do you think he's awake?"

            "Of course not.  He's got a dreadful fever.  Let him sleep!" another voice hissed.  Bastian couldn't quite place those voices, and without knowing it, his eyebrows furrowed into a frown.

            "Ah, look, he moved!" the first voice, genuinely female, whispered in an excited frenzy.

            "Quiet, wench!  It'll be best if I give him this shot while he's asleep…"

            "Shot?!"   
  


            Bastian's eyes shot open, shocking his two observers into high-pitched squeals as they backed away.  He winced, and sat up, trying not to faint as his vision swam.  Once his eyes became focused, he could make out the two figures huddling together, staring at him in fear bordering on awe.  They both were about a foot tall, and looked like two little old, ugly elves with pointy ears and graying white hair.  

            "Who are you?" Bastian asked through gritted teeth.  "And where am I?"

            "My dear young man, you don't know where you are?" the little man asked, and the two of them shared a worried glance.  "You're…Bastian, aren't you?  The…uh…Child?"

            Bastian's eyes widened.  "You mean…she brought me here?  I'm back?"

            The woman rolled her eyes as though he'd asked a particularly stupid question.  "Of **_course_** you're back.  We would have thought you'd at least recognize us."  They shared another worried glance.  "You…haven't forgotten us, have you?"

            Bastian felt a twinge of guilt.  Perhaps he had forgotten more about Fantasia than he realized.  "I'm sorry."

            Now the little old man looked to be on the verge of tears.  After a moment, he broke out into a loud wail.  "He's forgotten us!" he cried, throwing his arms around his wife and sobbing.  She patted him sympathetically, and rather looked like she was about to cry, as well.

            "Now, now, I'm sure he'll remember shortly.  It _has_ been awhile since he's been here…"

            But Bastian somehow felt a little indignant.  "Wait a minute.  I didn't come back on my own.  I want to know why the Empress brought me here."

            The two of them looked thoroughly surprised at him, and neither of them could speak for a moment. Finally the little man looked at his wife and said, "Well, at least he remembers the Empress..." She nodded, and the two of them resumed staring up at him, as though they had nothing else to say. Bastian didn't know how much more he could take of this.

            And then, from behind him, a deep gentle voice broke the silence.  "I would have thought you'd be happy to be back, Bastian."

            The young man froze.  He would know that voice anywhere, even if his memory were lost forever.  Nothing on the face of the earth or in Fantasia could make him forget the voice of a luck dragon…

            Whirling around, Bastian's confused frown broke into a wide grin as Falcor winked at him, a grin also on his fuzzy face.  "Falcor!!" Bastian exclaimed, and rushed towards the luck dragon at full speed.  Falcor beamed as Bastian embraced him around the neck; burying his face into pearly white scales as soft as feathers.  If Falcor could have embraced Bastian, he would have.  His ear twitched.

            Bastian grinned and reached up to scratch the itching ear, winning a low, pleased groan from Falcor.  "It's good to see you, my friend."

            "It's good to see you," Falcor replied, his eyes shining with ages-old wisdom.  "But disappointing, I must admit, that you don't seem to be happy to be here.  Tell me, Bastian…why did you stay away so long?"

            Bastian again buried his face into Falcor's soft scales, unable to look the luck dragon in the eyes.  "I…I don't know…" he whispered.  Suddenly, he was speaking in a torrent of words, having wanted for so long to explain to them why he never returned.  "I grew up, Falcor.  I'm no longer a child.  I have responsibilities.  I'm going to school still, in college you know.  One day I'll have to get a job, get married, start a family of my own.  My father…he needs me.  There's nothing…nothing I can do for this world anymore…"

            Falcor's eyes closed, as though he were in pain.  "Indeed, Bastian, we all knew you would grow up one day," he said gently.  "We even suspected that one day you would forget us without the help of a memory-stealer or any such magical thing…but on your own.  It happens to adults as they grow older.  Life consumes them, takes over, and they can think of nothing else.  No time for fantasies and dreams."

            Bastian mumbled without thinking, "None of my dreams came true…"  He immediately regretted it, but Falcor merely smiled his same wise smile.

            "It does seem that way, sometimes.  Perhaps that is one reason the Empress chose to bring you back."

            "I don't see how it will change my life when I return."

            Falcor's smile never faltered, his warm brown eyes somehow comforting as he replied, "Your life may not change, but you can."

            Bastian was silent, wondering to himself how Falcor knew him so well.  The luck dragon had always been like that; always knowing the right thing to do and say.  He was a genuine comfort, despite the turmoil within Bastian at the moment.  The young man knew that he had been called for a more urgent reason than just a soul-searching psychotherapy session with the Empress.  He had always been a case and would always be a case, no matter how hard she tried to help him.  No, he had been called to Fantasia, pulled from his room and his seat at his desk to once again deliver Fantasia from some great evil.

            Trying to pull his wits together, he braved another smile and asked, "So what is the problem now, Falcor?  Why did she call me here?  And to this place, of all places?  Why not take me directly to the Ivory Tower?"

            Falcor chuckled.  "One question at a time, Bastian.  One question at a time.  To answer the first question, that is for the Oracle to explain to you.  That, of course, answers your other questions."

            Bastian gulped.  "The…the Oracle?  Surely not…"

            "Indeed.  The Empress sent you here because the Oracle herself requested you.  She wishes to speak to you directly, to explain what you must do.  For it is only She that truly understands the nature of our current crisis.  Even I, myself, do not understand it…"

            Bastian felt coldness settle in the pit of his stomach.  "What is happening, Falcor?"

            The luck dragon sighed tiredly, and Bastian suddenly realized with no small amount of worry that Falcor looked rather…aged.  

            "We're growing old, Bastian," Falcor replied.  "All of us.  It is not the same as before.  We were immortal, Bastian.  But now we…are not."

            Bastian was confused.  "What do you mean?  Does no one die here?"

            "Never.  We grow old, yes, but it is not the same.  We never feel our age.  We are always young here, even the ones who look old."  Falcor's gaze settled on the two little people, who had long forgotten Bastian and were now arguing over spilled potions, it seemed.  Falcor smiled again, and continued.  "It's also affecting the Empress…"

            Bastian felt terror rise into his chest.  "She's not…"

            "No, she is not dying.  But she is not…what she used to be…"

            Falcor's voice trailed off, and as realization dawned, Bastian knew exactly what Falcor meant.  And as if he couldn't surprise Falcor even more with his attitude, his face broke out into a grin.  

            "Interesting."

* * *

End of chapter 1. Reviews welcome. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Again, inaccuracies probably abound in this fic, so be forewarned. This chapter took a bit more thought than the first, but only a bit more ^_^ 'Tis why it took me so long to write. Enjoy! Thanks for the reviews. 

For Mature Readers Only Chapter 2 – The Oracle 

"So have you seen her, Falcor?"

Falcor shook his head. "I've only heard rumors, actually. And she refuses to let anyone see her. Therefore I can only tell you what I've heard. But I imagine that it's true."

Bastian shook his head. "This is all too much…" he muttered. "I can only imagine what she's like now. So you say she isn't dying, though?"

"No. She would have announced that, you know."

"Not necessarily. She probably remembers the last time that happened; everyone got all upset and panicked. Everyone instantly lost hope."

Falcor chuckled. "Not everyone panicked, Bastian. There **were** those of us who kept our heads and wits about us. But at that time, it was hard not to get upset. After all, she is the center of our world. And the most we could do was our best. We certainly did that. But it was you, Bastian, who brought us back. You are the keeper of our world, whether you like it or not. The very instant you made the decision to keep Fantasia alive was the moment you became our life."

Bastian could only stare at Falcor, trying not to acknowledge the tears welling up in his own eyes as Falcor smiled and winked. Those were powerful words…powerful, and at the same time, condemning. He had brought Fantasia back, and had basically forgotten it for the last ten years.

Feeling a rise of indignation, he reminded himself that he **would** have remembered if the Empress had called on him. After all he couldn't really go back if he wasn't needed, now could he? However, he really didn't believe that. These people weren't just those he'd saved a long, long time ago…they had once been his closest friends.

Perhaps it was reality and its demand to get rid of any sort of fantasy. Sure, he might try to write it, but it was one thing to have actually lived it. Real life was the anti-fantasy, the anti-imagination. Where was room for imagination when your father was lying in a hospital, close to death? Bastian felt his chest tighten in a mixture of sadness and rage. This was all so messed up. What if he didn't manage to return before his father died?

He didn't even know if he could help them again. Especially because he wasn't a child now. How could he help them if he didn't have the imagination of a child anymore?

Falcor seemed to read Bastian's thoughts, as he sighed, and shook his head. "Bastian…anything that I could say to you would not take away your fears. I merely ask you this…do not worry. Go, talk to the Southern Oracle, and listen to what She has to say. You can make your decision from there."

Bastian nodded. "I think that I can do that."

Falcor smiled. "Good."

****

Engywook returned from the little cave, his arms full of a stack of rolled up notes and maps. He dumped them on the ground and pulled one of his notes out, unrolling it for Bastian to look at. Bastian, of course, had to lean down and squint to see the tiny writing. 

"Now listen closely," the little man said sternly, shaking his finger at Bastian. "The Southern Oracle has two gates. One, is the sphinxes. They are not the hardest gate, but possibly the most dangerous as they will kill you should you tarry too long. The second gate is the mirror, into which you will look and see your true self. This is the hardest gate. Most people go crazy if they stare into it for too long. The bravest man might see a coward, and the coward might see a brave warrior. All of it depends on them."

"I've seen this before," Bastian said. "Atraiu looked into the mirror and saw me. Will I look into the mirror and see Atraiu?"

"No," Falcor answered. "At the time, you were living his adventure. There is no one living yours but yourself."

"So I'll just see myself, then, right? Doesn't sound so hard."

"Ah, but who is your true self?" Engywook asked, pointing his finger directly at Bastian's nose. "You haven't seen him yet. He could be someone that you would never expect."

Bastian sighed. "So what about the first gate? Don't I have to get past it first?"

"Indeed. As you have said, you have seen this before. Go up to the gate and RUN as fast as you can through the sphinxes, preferably before their eyes open. Run, and do not slow down."

"No problem there," Bastian muttered, remembering the knight who ended up char-grilled to grisly perfection. He shuddered, and took a deep breath. "Well, let's get this over with."

***

Bastian hugged Falcor once more before following Engywook and his crook-nosed wife up the small hill of rocks. The little people riding, of course, in their little basket to the top. At the top was a small telescope, and in the distance Bastian could see the brilliant golden light that seemed to beckon him. He shuddered again and forced himself not to get anxious. That could wait for when he spoke to the Oracle.

Engywook chuckled at the expression on Bastian's face and hopped over to his telescope. "Ah, they're as bright as ever tonight. Come, have a look."

Bastian knelt down and peered through the telescope, gazing at the two golden sphinxes on each side of the canyon. Their eyes were closed. He wished they would stay closed. Forever. But, aside from the 'look-of-death' aspect of it, they were remarkably beautiful. Stunning, in fact.

He stood back up and dusted the dirt off the knees of his jeans. "Well, I guess I'll be going now."

Engywook gulped, and nodded. "Good luck." 

Bastian smiled. "Thanks." As he started down the hill to the canyon, he could hear Engywook start sobbing behind him. He rolled his eyes. This couldn't be so hard. Could it? Of course, Atraiu had a couple of close-calls, but that's because he hadn't had a clue what was going on. Right? 

Either way, he was going to find out pretty soon.

Bastian walked slowly towards the sphinxes, somewhat wanting his little trip there to be as long as possible. He began talking out loud to himself. "What the hell am I doing here? I should be visiting my father as much as possible. Or I could be at home, grieving my extremely failed test, listening to Anna gripe about her latest crush, or perhaps sleeping. Yes, sleep would be nice. I would certainly like some sleep about now…but no, I'm here. I'm walking along this really dark and dismal canyon towards two glowing statues of death. Why am I doing this again? I mean, I know that Fantasia loves me and I used to be their hero and all but…oh god, this is getting so old. I'm starting to sound like a broken record even to myself."

No matter how slowly he walked, he still eventually had to get there. He felt his stomach lurch when he briefly glanced at the rusty metal of what probably used to be a suit of armor. Whoa, it was still here…that was amazing. And to think…if he got fried to a crisp, he'd still be lying there in another ten years, too. That was comforting. He grimaced.

He stopped, and looked up at the statues. They really were huge…huge, and deadly. Thankfully they hadn't opened their eyes yet. He started to think that he really shouldn't be standing there just staring at them…oh no, it was too late.

The shards of light peeked through as both sets of eyes began to slowly open. Bastian froze, and could only stand there in horror. He willed himself to move, but to no avail. He could only stare at that blinding light, looking back and forth as each one's eyes opened, and he suddenly felt as though he were in a dream…one of those dreams that he was being chased by something and couldn't run. If he just closed his eyes, he would wake up, and this would really be a dream like all the other times. He would be asleep at his desk; it would probably be time for that test now, actually…unless he missed it already. No…no…if he closed his eyes, he would wake up.

But he couldn't close his eyes, either, and the sphinxes eyes were now fully open. Bastian braced himself for the blast of a lifetime and silently prayed for it to be quick, squeezing his eyes shut.

Nothing.

For a moment he wondered if he was really dead. After all he hadn't felt a thing, and surely he would be feeling a lot worse if he were alive. He braved a look; yes, the eyes were still open. Both sets of eyes gazed down at him, such a blinding white that he had to shield his eyes with his hand. He was very confused; why weren't they attacking? Were they just waiting until he came closer?

And then a loud voice came out of nowhere and nearly scared him out of his wits, _"What is your purpose for being here?" _

Bastian looked around, seeing nothing, and then looked back up at the sphinxes. Well, there was no one else…but they had never talked before, had they? Normally they just killed anyone who went through…they didn't exactly try to start up a conversation. However, Bastian quickly reminded himself that while this was unexpected, he really shouldn't complain.

"What was that?" he asked. 

_"What is your purpose for being here?" _

"Purpose for being here?" Bastian repeated. "You mean, why I want to see the Southern Oracle?"

_"Why are you in Fantasia?" _

"I came because I was called here," Bastian said. "Why? Doesn't the Oracle know that already?"

_"The Oracle knows why you were called. She does not know why you are here. You do not belong here." _

Bastian felt something akin to a knife being plunged through his chest at those words. Indeed, he'd felt that way from the beginning…actually ever since he'd opened his eyes one morning and realized he was no longer a child. If such things occurred. He'd known he didn't belong from the second he'd opened his eyes and found himself in Fantasia. But that didn't change the fact that he was there, and there was no way to get back. Or perhaps there was no way he could go back without trying to help them. 

And he needed to find out just what was going on first. 

"I'm here because my help was requested," Bastian replied. "To repay the Empress for all that she ever did for me. I could never refuse her."

_"It was not her place to call you." _

"Nevertheless, I'm here. I will do what I can."

_"Are you certain that your help is needed?" _

Again, another stinging blow. Bastian wanted to ask them what **_their_** problem was, but thought the better of it. 

"No, I'm not certain," he replied. "But if I can help, I want to. And to do that I need to speak to the Southern Oracle."

The sphinxes were silent a moment, as though mulling over his reply. _"Very well,"_ they said. _"Be quick." _

"I intend to," Bastian said, and walked through, half-expected them to suddenly fire off and fry him into tiny bits. But the sphinxes were calm, still, though their horribly watchful eyes were still on him as he passed. He suppressed yet another shudder, and instead thought about Engywook's reaction to all of this, a smirk crossing his lips. The sphinxes eyes closed as he reached the other side, and disappeared into the realm of the Southern Oracle, where everything went white.

***

Engywook was more than surprised at the sphinx's behavior.

"WHAT??!! He just walked right on through! HOW??? WHY??? Oh dear, oh dear, this is far too much for my heart to take."

***

Snow, everywhere, rushing into his face and stinging his skin, his eyes, his lips. He was chilled straight through to the bone, and shivering uncontrollably, but now was no time to stop. Nor could he turn back. It was so cold, though…so cold. He held his hand up to his face in an attempt to shield his eyes from the snow, but it was in vain as the blizzard was so thick that he could barely see two inches in front of his face. However, he continued on, stumbling through the white haze in what he hoped was a straight line. 

Again he asked himself why he was there. Really, his answer had given the sphinxes enough reason to let him pass, but what was it for? Would Fantasia again be reduced to nothing? Would he once again have to revive it? He didn't know if he had any wishes left…except one. That his father would live. Any other wishes he might have possessed seemed irrelevant at that point.

It wasn't long before his thoughts were interrupted by the realization that there was something ahead. Something shiny and equally as white as the snow blinding his vision. It was no doubt the mirror, and Bastian picked up his speed, coming to stop before the clear glass that seemed to shimmer with life. He stared at it, and waited with an anxiously beating heart to see his 'true self'.

He stood there for what was probably five minutes, and no reflection came onto the mirror. Bastian frowned, and leaned forward until his nose almost touched the glass…still no reflection. All he could see was endless darkness, not even a reflection of his body. It was like he was staring at a wall.

What did it mean? Either the mirror was broken, or there was something seriously wrong with him. Bastian wanted to believe the first option, but something inside of him told him that the latter was true. Either way, he wouldn't know unless he asked the Oracle…which was next. He lifted one hand, and moved to place it on the glass of the mirror, but instead his hand went right through it. Of course…it had been a door, as well. He remembered that now. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through.

***

A/N: Stay tuned for The Southern Oracle in Chapter 3, and for some questions to be answered. Such as what's the deal with the mirror?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Bastian speaks with the Oracle, who gives him some disturbing news. I know this is kind of a short chapter but I think it fills out nicely. ^_^ Hope you like. Please review!

**Chapter 3 – Something's Wrong… **

At first, he wasn't sure if he were in the right place. Instead of the bluish light of the Southern Oracle illuminating the surrounding hills of snow, he could see no Southern Oracle. Just the white, sparkling hills of snow. And instead of the black sky, a constant nighttime with no stars and no moon, there was light. Everywhere. No sun, and no clouds, but a haze of gray covering the sky. He could see nothing for miles; the Southern Oracle was gone. 

A feeling of dread hit the pit of his stomach and his first thought was that now would be a good time to panic. 

But that didn't last long. A second later, a voice came out of nowhere and said, "I am here." 

Bastian nearly jumped out of his skin and whirled around, looking for the origin of that voice. He saw nothing. 

"Where are you?" he asked. 

"Here," the voice replied, sounding definitely female. "Turn around." 

He did as he was told, although he'd already looked in that direction. This time, however, he was relieved to see someone standing there. A woman…or girl, rather, as she was quite young looking, stood casually, as though she had not a care in the world, and gave him a stoic look. She wore a white dress, fitting somehow for all of the scenery around her. He knew without a doubt that this was the Southern Oracle, wondering why she'd taken on a different form. 

"I find a different form to be necessary when the need arises," she said cryptically. 

He stared at her. Had he said something? He wasn't sure…perhaps he hadn't. She was, after all, a supreme being. 

"Not a supreme being in your world." This time, he knew he hadn't said anything. 

"Okay, so you're reading my thoughts," he said. "That's charming. Sorry if I'm a little slow; this is taking some getting used to." 

"The Child would not have had a problem," she said. He couldn't help but notice the lack of expression on her face as she spoke. He could clearly detect the hard tone of her voice and knew that she was annoyed…if not extremely upset. And again, his mind had yet to totally grasp what she was saying to him. There were too many thoughts…too many things to consider, here, that it was hard for him to concentrate. That and the fact that she was creeping him out. 

"Yes, well, the 'Child' has grown up," he replied. "I'm sorry, but it happened. I'm **sorry** I didn't come back more often, but my real life hasn't been so hot lately, you know? And when I got older I just didn't have any time anymore. You understand don't you?" 

She stared at him, the expressionless look saying nothing. 

He sighed, feeling disappointed somehow. He had wanted her to at least tell him off…he could have handled that. It was better than nothing at all. He couldn't handle silence. 

"Look," he said. "Just tell me what it is I have to do." 

"There is nothing you can do." 

He blinked. "Excuse me? Why was I called here, then? If Fantasia needs my help, then I'm here to help. Obviously, I really didn't have much choice." 

The Oracle actually cracked a smile for the first time. "It is true…you had no choice, did you? Growing up. Real life taking over. It's hard, I agree. But it was not I who called you to Fantasia; the Empress in her current state of mind is desperate. She merely wants peace from what is happening to her world, and I imagine that she thinks you are the only hope she has left." 

Bastian felt this feeling of dread deepen with each word the Oracle told him. "I..I don't understand. I thought I was the keeper of Fantasia…" 

"You are no longer Fantasia's keeper. You have saved us before, many times. And for that the people of Fantasia will always love you. Your presence gives them hope. It is for that reason that I allowed you to be brought here." 

Bastian couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So you're telling me I have to leave? Without doing anything? How pointless is that!? There's no way I'm leaving without doing something to help!" 

"I have told you. There is nothing you can do. It is better if you returned to your father before he dies." 

"No!" 

She gave him a quizzical look. "You were against coming here from the start because your father is dying. Now you do not want to leave. What, exactly, do you want?" 

He sighed, and realized he had no answer. What exactly did he want? And how would he figure it out if everyone kept making decisions for him? "Look," he said, feeling defeated already. "I've been really lost in my life lately. I don't know what I want at all! I have no clue! My father is dying, yes. My stepmother and stepsister don't get along with me. I'm failing probably all of my classes in college. I'm such a shy, retarded nerd that I can't even talk to the cashier guy at the cafeteria! I spend all my time reading books. So basically I'm still the same as I was when I was a child…so what's the difference?" 

The Oracle's eyes met his evenly, and perhaps there was a glimmer of sympathy in her voice. "You have changed, Bastian, because your soul has become lost. You are drowning in your worries and your fears, and you wish for an escape. That is another reason why I allowed the Empress to bring you here. We are your escape, for the time being. We were always your escape; you just chose not to use that route. Instead, you allowed yourself to drift further away from the world of imagination. You may have read those books, or played those games, but you did not allow yourself to 'live' them, as you lived your adventures here. You are afraid of leaving reality, but you do not know how to live in it. Perhaps a short time here will help you regain some of that imagination." 

He nodded, feeling relieved, because it was apparent that she was going to let him stay. Amazingly, he had come to the realization that he really **did** want to stay, especially when he thought she was going to send him back. As she said, this was his escape. He only wished she would give him **something** to do. 

"There is something you can do," she said, in answer to his thoughts. 

"Geez, I wish you'd stop doing that," he said, annoyed. "It's like the worst invasion of privacy." 

She smiled. "I cannot grant that wish, I'm afraid. Your thoughts provide great insight into your soul. It is hard for you to voice your true feelings. The real you. Not this façade you portray to others. Shy, insecure…I have seen these attributes melt away when courage and self-confidence were needed." 

Bastian felt her words glide over him like a soothing blanket…it was the encouragement that he needed…if he could find it within himself to believe that he still had that capability. And then he was reminded of another question he needed to ask. 

"I wanted to ask you about the mirror…" he said. 

She nodded, her expression becoming darker. "That, I'm afraid, is something I cannot help you with," she replied. "You see, the mirror reflects the 'true self' of the person looking into it. That is all there is." 

"But…I didn't see anything." 

The Oracle remained silent, and Bastian was confused. What was she trying to tell him? That he didn't exist? His 'true self' was gone? That was absurd…he was standing right in front of her! 

But…the 'true self' wasn't necessarily the outward appearance, was it? 

"I don't understand," he said quietly. "Does this mean that…my soul is gone?" 

"No," she said, smiling a little. "It is hard for me to explain. But, let me put it to you this way. The real you, the real self that is supposed to reside within the miserable shell that I see before me…is dead." 

Bastian sighed. "How can my 'real self' be dead when I'm alive?" 

"It's not all science in this world, you know," she replied. "You may learn about science and the hard facts in your college classes, Bastian, but in this world, the imagination reigns. It thrives on people's dreams and wishes; you of all people should know that by heart. You've stopped dreaming, Bastian. You've stopped wishing, because you have lost hope." 

He became indignant once again. "I stopped because I realized that not all your wishes come true. In fact, mine never come true anymore. My dreams have become nightmares, and things I don't even want to think about. So what is the point?" 

She listened, and spoke evenly. "That is why you are dead to this world," she said. "Even now you feel it; you don't belong. You are an abnormality, to speak in scientific terms. I know that sounds harsh, but that is the only way I can explain it to you. That is why the mirror showed you nothing." 

All of this was too much for him to handle. An ominous thought filled his head…_what if he would waste away to nothing, if he stayed? Never reach home, never see reality again…but die, in Fantasia, because his 'real self' was dead. _It was absurd, but somehow horrifying at the same time. He shook his head, and tried to shake that thought away. No, it wouldn't happen! But he wasn't feeling all right, was he? He was feeling a little dizzy, and his headache had consistently gotten worse. What was going on…what could he do? He was confused, overwhelmed, and tired. Wanting to sleep so badly… 

"What can I do?" he asked, pleading now with her to help him. "I know I'm not 'The Child' anymore, but I'm still Bastian, and this is still my Fantasia, whether you say I'm it's 'keeper' or not. If it's changed, it's because I've changed, and if I change back, then this world will change back. Now you tell me what I have to do, and tell me now!" His voice went from desperate to demanding in seconds, and for a brief second he thought she might retaliate. But that second was fleeting when she opened her mouth and laughed. Actually _laughed! _

"What's so funny?" he asked. 

"You!" she replied, giggling. This wasn't really happening, was it? The Southern Oracle, giggling? It was yet another thing that bothered him immensely; the Southern Oracle just did **not** giggle…something wasn't right about it. 

And, of course, he'd forgotten that she could read minds. "Of course we laugh," she said. "We just don't often have a reason to. You, on the other hand, are quite funny. Listen to yourself! You're as stubborn as the Empress, who, to give her credit, gives in when necessary. Very well, Bastian Balthasar Bux. You may again attempt to save Fantasia from its blight. I can give you no advice except this: your mind and your heart are two different working tools. Often they may try to lead you in different directions; it is at those moments when you must weigh all the options before trusting one or the other. Think, but feel. Examine facts, but also emotions." 

Not knowing how this advice would help him in the long run, Bastian simply decided that he wasn't about to ask anymore questions. "I will keep that in mind." 

The Oracle nodded. "Well then. The first place you should go after leaving here is the Ivory Tower. The Empress wishes to see you as soon as possible. Together, perhaps you can devise a way to restore the spirit of your youth, and in the process do likewise for Fantasia." She then pressed her lips in a light, feathery kiss on his forehead. "Travel well, Bastian. You may find that the road gets easier to walk when your heart is light." 

*** 

Soon after his meeting with the Oracle, and after saying goodbye to the little people who helped him, Bastian was on his way. Through the clouds, over glorious mountain ranges, over vast prairies, feeling the wind rush past him like a businessman in a hurry to get to work. Bastian felt exhilaration beyond the wildest roller coaster ride, gripping the soft scales of Falcor's neck as tight as he could. Falcor was laughing. 

"Enjoying yourself?" the luck dragon asked, his voice rushing past him in the wind. 

"Of course!" Bastian shouted. "I just feel like I'm going to fall off any second now." 

"Don't worry!" Falcor said. "I'd catch you if you fell!" 

Bastian smiled, and had no doubt that the luck dragon would, indeed, catch him if he fell. So he simply enjoyed the passing scenery. He was vaguely reminded of the 'America the Beautiful' song, and found himself thinking, _'O Beautiful, for spacious skies…' _

He also thought briefly that the skies of America, while beautiful, did not hold a candle to the skies of Fantasia. Clear, crisp, and untouched by the pollution of mankind. He could see for miles and miles, and marveled at this change…no city in sight. 

It was then that Falcor interrupted his thoughts and said, "Look down, Bastian…it's Atraiu." 

Bastian eagerly looked down to see his friend. "Let's go down there, I want to say hello," he said. Falcor laughed again and began to land. However, instead of seeing a young boy, the Atraiu from so long ago, Bastian saw a tall, bronze-skinned warrior astride the familiar white horse. The warrior's piercing black eyes met Bastian's, and his lips pulled into a wide grin. It was Atraiu. 

"Bastian, my friend, you have changed," Atraiu stated, dismounting his horse, Artax, as he spoke. 

Bastian jumped down from Falcor's neck and clasped hands with Atraiu. "I know, and so have you. But I'm back!" 

"Indeed you are. I am sure you have heard of the situation," Atraiu replied. 

Bastian nodded. "I have. I'm sorry, Atraiu…I'm sorry. I wish this wasn't happening to you all." 

Atraiu smiled. "It does not affect my people, Bastian. The plains people live and die, that has never changed. But we are a peculiar race in Fantasia and always have been. The others, however…Bastian, Fantasia is dying. It is different this time; different in that there is no entity destroying us…" 

Bastian knew this; the Oracle had all but told him as such. Basically **he** was the one destroying Fantasia. "I am trying to stop it," he said. "But I don't know how. I'm on my way to see the Empress right now, to maybe figure all of this out. Will you come with me? It'll be like old times!" 

Atraiu shook his head. "I cannot leave my people, Bastian. I would gladly help you on your quest, but soon it will be the Moon of Redemption, a night when the plains people celebrate the passing of their sins to the moon, where they will be forgotten and erased. It is a long tradition and I cannot leave." 

At that point, Bastian could not help but notice the lovely young woman walk up beside Atraiu. Bastian's eyes widened as Atraiu put his arm around her and smiled at Bastian proudly. 

"This, Bastian…is my wife, Sarene. She is expecting my child." 

Bastian heard himself offer congratulations, his mind still in a whir. Wife? Child? Atraiu??? 

Atraiu gave Bastian a sympathetic look. "I agree, it is all very sudden. But you see why I cannot leave. My family needs me, as do my people. There have also been several of our warriors killed lately by some unknown creature in the wilderness; I have to be here to protect the village." 

Bastian nodded, noting again how much he felt so…out of place. "I understand," he said. "Again, congratulations, Atraiu. It was nice to meet you, miss." 

"And you, Bastian," she replied, her voice sweet and melodic. Bastian briefly thought that, if he had a wife like her, he probably wouldn't want to leave, either. She was lithe and athletic, with an air of grace and refinement about her, and judging by the way she looked at Atraiu, and the way that he looked at her, they were very much in love. Bastian was happy for his friend, despite the fact that he had no idea what to say. 

"Well, I'd best be going," he said, feeling awkward, and climbed back onto Falcor's neck. "See you around!" 

"Goodbye, Bastian, and good luck," Atraiu offered, and he and his wife stood and waved to Bastian until he and Falcor were out of sight. 

*** 

Bastian began to feel drowsy and nauseated by the time the Ivory Tower came into view. The sight of it glowing brightly in the distance, however, was enough to make him forget everything else. It was just the way he'd remembered it; nothing had changed. It was still as awe-inspiring and magnificent as before. 

"Hurry, Falcor," he urged, and Falcor chuckled. 

"Patience, Bastian, patience." 

But there was no patience in him. He wanted to see the tower up close; touch it with his hand. He wanted to stand at the top and look out across the beauty that was Fantasia. He wanted to stand and close his eyes, and feel the breeze. And of course, he wanted to see the Empress, to whom he had given a much-needed name so long ago. He closed his eyes and thought of her. The sparkling goddess of Fantasia, the one who ruled with wisdom and peace. 

Moonchild. 

Would she truly welcome him? Or would she, too, be startled and disappointed? He had no choice; he **had** to grow up. How often would he have to tell himself that in order to make himself feel better, and less guilty? 

No, it was best to face the music when he had to. But he was still nervous…did she know that he'd grown up? Or was she expecting him to still be a child? 

All of these questions ran through his head and before he knew it, Falcor had landed on the top of the tower. Bastian reluctantly climbed off and took a deep breath. He turned, and looked at Falcor as if to ask, "Please don't make me do this…" 

But Falcor just winked that same, familiar wink, and Bastian offered a hesitant smile. It was the best he could do. With another deep breath, he stepped into the doorway, and down the stairs. 

*** 

He couldn't remember the inside of the tower, strangely enough; and he also couldn't remember if he'd even **been** inside the tower. None of that mattered now, anyway, he supposed; he was completely and utterly lost. He'd been wandering for several minutes, and the long hallways and stairways were confusing. He felt as though he'd gone in circles rather than making any progress. 

But it was very pretty inside. Every so often he would stop and stare at a random painting or sculpture as he passed through. Everything was white. He felt like a smudge. Just a dark smudge on a blank sheet of paper. 

This thought didn't brighten his mood any. 

After a little while, he finally found a set of large double doors. His heart pounding, he opened them, fearing and anticipating what he would see on the other side. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

I know, I am evil. Evil, evil cliffhangers! Stay tuned for chapter 4, coming soon! Please review. 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Bastian meets the Empress again...surprise! I am not sure how well this chapter turned out, because it's relatively short. But anyway, here it is!

**Chapter 4 - The Empress**

At first he thought he hadn't found anything. The room was dark, save for a small candle in the corner of the room that illuminated little. If there were windows, the curtains were drawn. If there was anyone in there, he couldn't tell. He stared at that little candle as if it would provide the answers, but of course the light only flickered a little. He sighed. 

As he moved to close the doors and try looking again, he heard a soft voice, barely above a whisper, say, "Come in, Bastian." 

He nearly jumped out of his skin. That voice…it was the Empress, he was sure of it. He peered into the darkness, trying to see if he could see her. "Where are you?" he asked. "I can't see you." 

"I'm in here. Please, come in and shut the door behind you." Her voice sounded desperate. 

He did as she had told him, some large part of him wishing that he could just turn around, run back to Falcor, and fly away as fast as he could. He didn't know when he'd ever become such a wuss…or perhaps he'd never grown out of that stage. But this was the Empress…how could he be scared of a girl? 

Correction…**_immortal girl_**…with more powers than he could ever dream of possessing. He swallowed hard, and wished his throat didn't feel like it was stuffed full of cotton. "You called?" 

"I did," she replied. "My world is in disarray, Bastian. I feel as though I have lost control of everything. Perhaps it is my fault…I don't know. But in spite of whose fault it is, which really matters not, I need you to help me restore Fantasia once more. You have spoken to the Oracle?"

"Yes." 

"Good. What did she say?" 

He ignored her question…impertinent of him, he knew, but at this point he really had to know why she was sitting here in the dark. He remembered what Falcor had told him about her. But he didn't think it was right for her to be sitting in the dark, trying to hide. "Empress, why don't you turn on the lights, so I can see you." 

Silence. Then, "No." 

"Are you sick?" 

"No, I feel fine." 

"Have you turned into some monstrosity, too hideous for the world to see?" 

"…No…" 

"Then you shouldn't be sitting here in the dark, trying to hide yourself. This isn't like the Empress I know." 

"I've…changed, Bastian. I don't want anyone to see me." 

"I've changed, too…you don't see me hiding in the dark."  
  


"I can tell you've changed. Your voice is deeper, and you're taller. You've grown up." 

"So what's the problem?" 

"I don't like being in this form!" she yelled. It took Bastian by surprise…he'd never heard the Empress use such a tone of voice before. 

"Look, just turn on the lights. You know I wouldn't make fun of you, or whatever it is you're afraid of." 

"…Alright, fine." He heard her sigh, and then all at once, the lights came on, and he could see her. 

"Woah…" was all he could say. 

She was considerably taller, and the way her body had filled out, she was no longer childlike in any aspect. She gazed at him with eyes that still spoke of ageless wisdom and innocence, but which shone from a face that no longer belonged to a child. Full, rounded lips, and a hint of blush to her high cheekbones, and framed by a mane of blonde hair that was also considerably less organized and more unruly than he'd ever remembered it being. His eyes could not help but drift downward from there, and he immediately wished that he had kept his eyes on her face. She was, in a word, perfect. And his equally adult body could not ignore this fact.

The Empress watched Bastian with confusion, watching as the expression on his face went from shocked to pleased and then back to shocked. "It's horrible, isn't it?" she asked. 

"Not quite the word I was thinking of," he replied, his gaze never leaving her. "In fact, the very opposite." 

"That's very kind of you, Bastian," she said, though not convincingly. "However, you agree that this has to be rectified. What if this is only the first stage? What if tomorrow I wake up and I've aged more? I can't die of old age, Bastian; I can't die. I live forever. Or, I'm supposed to." 

"Don't worry about it, Empress. I have confidence that things will work out." 

She gave him a dazzling smile, and he had to keep his knees from giving out on him. "Well, as long as you are positive. Did the Oracle tell you what was happening to us?" 

"Um…not exactly…" 

She frowned. "What did she tell you, then?" 

The Oracle hadn't really told him anything that would help him save Fantasia, and he really wasn't sure he wanted to tell the Empress what he had been told. Neither could he keep it from her, and there was his dilemma. "Well," he began. "I doubt you want to hear what she did tell me." 

A look of horror now crossed over the Empress' face, and Bastian regretted starting it out like that. 

"No, no, she didn't predict the end of the world or anything," he said. "We really just talked about me, in the context of saving Fantasia, of course, but it wasn't good. She told me, in not so many words, that I wasn't needed." 

"Wasn't needed? How could she tell you that? You are needed! That's why I called you!" 

"Well, you see…she told me that since I've grown up, that Fantasia is no longer mine to keep. That in a sense, my being here was doing both Fantasia and myself harm, because I don't belong here in a world that relies on the innocence, and imagination of children. I can't argue with her, Empress. She is right." 

At that, the Empress sank back into her chair and put her face in her hands. She began to cry, and Bastian felt horrible. But what else was he supposed to say? Make up some false plan and end up screwing everything up? He wasn't about to do that, not to Fantasia. 

"Don't cry, Empress. The Oracle is letting me stay here, in hopes that maybe we'll come up with something. You and me, if we think about this long enough, I'm sure that something will come to us." 

"I don't see how," she replied, her voice muffled and teary. "I don't know what to do…I always know what to do. And now it appears that I've made a dire mistake." 

"It can't be all that bad." He was trying desperately to be positive, here, and she wasn't making it easier for him. "Look, why don't we just calm down and think rationally. Ok, maybe rational thought really doesn't work here, but at any rate, just calm down…" 

He began pacing back and forth, while she eventually dried her tears and watched him. He was thinking…what was this caused by? This wasn't like anything he'd experienced here, before. How did the immortal beings of Fantasia all of a sudden become mortal? 

He turned to the Empress. "Did you notice anything out of the ordinary whenever this first started?" 

"No, not really," she said. "In fact, I didn't even notice it myself until my assistant pointed it out to me. She was quite shocked. And that's when I started hearing reports from all throughout the land that it was happening to others who were immortal like myself. The Plains people are not affected, because they live and die like normal humans."  
  


"I know. I went to see Atraiu." 

She smiled. "Then you've met his lovely wife. I'm very excited for them." 

"Yeah, me too." Bastian felt that unexplained feeling of awkwardness again, and changed the subject back. "Anyway, you're sure nothing strange happened? Think hard." 

She did, and still came up with nothing. "Each day has been like the one before," she said. "Things have been peaceful here." 

"Until now. Something must have happened." 

"If it happened, I am not aware of it," she said. 

"Well then we need to go find out." 

She looked at him curiously. "We?" 

"Yes 'we'. You know, 'out', as in 'out of this tower'." 

"But I can't leave this tower. Not looking like this." 

"How often do you leave the tower, anyway? Never? If I were you, I'd want out at least sometimes." 

"But I have duties to fulfill..." 

"Duties that can wait until this thing is resolved. Do you or do you not want to help save your people? Since the Oracle was so straight with telling me that I'm not needed, I'm being straight with you in telling you that you ARE needed. Now come on, pack some stuff, we're going on an adventure! And change into something else, that dress just won't do." 

Bastian couldn't believe what he was saying. Was he out of his ever-loving mind? Taking the Empress with him, dragging her into who-knows-what and only-God-knows-where. If anything happened to her, it would be not only his fault, but his undoing of the world of imagination that he once helped re-create. Some rational part of him begged her to say 'no' once more, at which he would leave the subject alone and continue on his journey by himself. But the irrational part of him would be overjoyed if she said 'yes'. The irrational part of him, unfortunately, was much larger than the rational at this point. The irrational was trying to convince him that this would be the blast of a lifetime and he would be able to protect her from anything that came their way. After all, he had no idea if she was still immortal and just looked grown-up, or if she really was mortal and had no powers whatsoever. The latter was very unnerving, to say the least. 

The Empress was looking at Bastian as though he'd grown two more heads. Where had her sweet, agreeable, docile little boy gone? Before her now stood a man who had just suggested something that no one else had ever suggested to her. Leave the tower? He might have suggested she impale herself on a hot burning iron stick. But now that the thought…and that word 'adventure'…had crept into her mind…she saw the light in Bastian's eyes and realized that whether he was needed here or not, he was more alive than he had been in the last ten years. Perhaps it would help clear her mind if she were to get out of the tower for a while. After all, her assistants could do the work while she was gone…and really what duty was more important than saving her people? 

"Alright then," she said, standing up. "I'll go with you. But we must leave soon, and under cover. I cannot be seen." 

Bastian inwardly groaned and thanked his irrational side, telling it he hoped it was happy. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

A short while later, the Empress was ready, having donned a long cape and a more suitable outfit for traveling. The two of them made their way to the top of the tower where Falcor was waiting. As soon as Bastian and the Empress arrived, and stepped down to where Falcor could see them, the luck dragon's eyes grew wide as it dawned on him what was going on. 

"Bastian, I do not think this is a good idea. Empress, surely you must reconsider." 

"My mind is made up, luck dragon," she replied. "I must do what I can to save my people."  
  


"Getting yourself killed will be no way to help them," Falcor said, with an icy tone in his voice that took Bastian by complete surprise. He had never heard Falcor speak in such a way. 

"Falcor, look, she'll be fine. She has to get out of this tower sometime. She's needed." 

"No, _you're_ needed," Falcor replied. "_She_ needs to be kept safe, not pulled around by you on your quest." 

Bastian frowned. "No, I'm _not_ needed, at least that's what the Oracle told me. So what else am I supposed to do? The Oracle told me to do what I can, but if I'm not needed, then what can I do but take along the person who **is** needed? It's her world, she called me here, and I'm going to help her do what she can to save it." 

Falcor stared at Bastian. "The Oracle…told you that you weren't needed?" 

"Pretty much." 

Silence fell over the three of them as Falcor mulled this over. "That's quite unlike her. She would never just turn someone away who was there to help." 

"Apparently she's gotten a lot more picky in her old age." 

"Normally she has a plan," Falcor said thoughtfully. "She told you nothing of how to save Fantasia?" 

"Not really…I mean, she told me that I was no longer its Keeper…so there was really nothing I could do, and that the only reason she was letting me stay was because the Empress called for me." 

"And why do you think bringing the Empress along will help?" 

"Because it's her world, like I told her. If I am no longer its Keeper, than she is all it has left by way of guardianship." 

"Then perhaps you should find another Keeper for Fantasia," Falcor replied. "That may be the way to save it." 

"Find one here?" he asked. 

Falcor winked. "With luck, we can do anything." 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

End chapter 4…chapter 5, the real adventure begins! 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Yippee! I updated this story! I was beginning to think about putting this one out of commission but I got'r dun, son. It's fairly short and I wrote it in a pretty short amount of time...but it's something! So enjoy.

Chapter 5 

They were on their way, into an adventure full of excitement and danger. Never before had the Empress been directly involved in one of these adventures. Before she had been only a name to refer to, a silent figure on the side to which they would come asking questions and she would provide their answers. Now she only had questions and no answers, and no one to ask. She could not ask Bastian, who knew less than she did. She could not ask Falcor, who seemed to regard her as foolish now for her decision to leave. She trusted both of them, but she felt alone. 

That loneliness deepened as she turned one final time to see the light of her beloved tower fade into the horizon. The darkness that spread over the land seem to hide itself in her heart and she found her hands clinging to Bastian's jacket even tighter. What was she to do if she couldn't find the cure for what was happening to herself and her people? 

She thought about the suggestion that Falcor had made about finding a new Keeper for Fantasia. Was it true that the Oracle had told Bastian that he was of no help, and that he was no longer the Keeper of Fantasia? Why would the Oracle tell him that? It made the Empress feel even more foolish. She had never spoken to the Oracle itself but knew of it well and had come to expect the unexpected from it. But this was far **_too_** unexpected. 

Bastian himself did not seem discouraged. She actually did not know what to make of him now. Taller, thinner, his face drawn, he seemed older than his actual age. She knew he was young, but his face looked tired, aged. Definitely not a boy anymore. That was discouraging for her. She had known he had grown a bit, but hadn't been fully aware of how much. That was her mistake. Perhaps it had also been a mistake to bring him back… 

But somehow it wasn't stopping him. If he could go on, then she had to find a way to also go on. She hated this feeling of self-doubt that had started creeping upon her ever since her body had started aging. She was ageless, her mind always more than a child's, but for some reason her adult body was complicating things. She began feeling confused, emotional. Feelings were interrupting her thoughts. Feelings she had never felt before…and she hated it. She just wanted to solve this mystery as soon as possible so she could get back to normal. 

Which was why Bastian was the only thing she had to rely on at the moment. As much faith as she had always had in him, the situation now seemed hopeless, which also made her feel guilty. Fantasia was a world for the imagination of children, not adults, for adults always and forever cast away their imaginations because their dreams never came true. They grew tired of dreaming and so they forgot what it was like to be a child, carefree and unconditionally faithful. It seemed Bastian was no different…but he was determined to try, anyway. She couldn't hold anything against him, not even for a second. He could not help but grow older…even she had to face that fact. But the time had gone by too fast, and she had never usually been one to notice the time. Until all of a sudden it seemed to affect her in more ways than one. 

Time had affected Bastian drastically. She had wanted nothing more than to bring him to Fantasia and let him stay forever, but she knew he would not have agreed. How could she hold him against his will? And yet she had pulled him to Fantasia against his will. Or had she? Had he been able to resist? She really didn't know…all she knew is that she had called to him and he had still shown up. And even now she felt that something wasn't quite right about him, though she couldn't place her finger on it. 

And then she felt him place his hand on hers, and she realized that her arms had unconsciously slipped around his waist. She felt her cheeks burn and started to remove them but his hand kept them where they were. He glanced behind him and smiled at her. 

"Don't worry, Empress. Everything will be fine." 

She offered him a half-smile, the best she could do at the moment. "I know Bastian." 

*** 

During the night she slept a little, her head resting on Bastian's back as Falcor flew on. The sunrise woke her up with its first rays of light over the clouds. There were no words for the sight that greeted them, with colors splashed across the sky like an artist's canvas. She simply stared in awe. How many times had she seen the sunrise and the sunset from her Ivory Tower? Why did this one seem so different, as though it were the first sunrise she'd ever seen? 

Bastian was also in awe. "I don't think I've ever seen a sunrise this amazing," he said. 

"Sunrises in Fantasia are fantastic," she replied. "I have seen many…however, this one seems different." 

"Maybe it's because you're seeing it from a different angle," he said, never taking his eyes off the fiery glow. 

She didn't say anything, but she was thinking how right he was. A different angle? Perhaps that was how she was seeing him…and why he seemed so different. 

"Empress," Falcor said suddenly. "I'm afraid I have to stop." 

She frowned. "Have to stop? Why, Falcor? What's wrong?" 

The luck dragon wheezed. "I…am…tired…" 

Bastian was immediately worried. Falcor did not sound good at all. "Ok, let's stop. There's some woods down there, we can set up camp." 

When Falcor landed, Bastian jumped down, helped the Empress, and then took a good look at his friend. Falcor's eyes were closed as though in pain, and he was breathing heavily. 

"What's wrong with you?" Bastian asked. 

Falcor opened one eye and regarded Bastian with a hazy look. "Forgive me…I don't think I can go on." 

Bastian began to panic. "What do you mean you can't go on? Falcor, tell me what's wrong!" 

Falcor heaved a great sigh. "I am dying, Bastian." Falcor said quietly. "I have lived forever, and now I can feel the life leaving me even now. I don't know much longer I have…that is why you must hurry. You…and the Empress…must find a cure, or everything will die." 

Bastian was horrified. "I thought that you and the people of Fantasia were just growing older." 

"We are. But it is growing stronger. Death creeps ever nearer and I cannot hold him off for long." 

The Empress watched as the luck dragon closed his eyes again, and she felt that panic rising in her heart, as well. "Don't give up, Falcor," she said. "We will find the cure for Fantasia. We will restore it, and you. Don't die…" Tears were now streaming down her cheeks. 

Falcor opened an eye again and smiled faintly. "Empress, you are brave." 

"I don't feel brave," she replied. 

"To leave your tower was the bravest thing you have done. Continue to move forward, Empress, and the answer will come to you." 

Falcor closed his eyes once more and whispered, "Now leave me." 

The Empress nodded and took Bastian by the hand. Bastian resisted…he didn't want to leave Falcor like this. What if something came along and Falcor couldn't defend himself? What if…Falcor… 

"No, I won't leave you!" Bastian cried. "You've got to come with us, Falcor…don't just lie here and give up!" 

"Bastian, we must hurry!" the Empress said, pulling him. "Falcor will be fine." 

"We can't leave him!" 

"We have to!" she shouted. "Do you think I want to leave him here? I do not! Come, Bastian!" 

Bastian stopped, tears forming in his eyes as he gazed at Falcor one last time. The luck dragon said nothing more, his eyes closed. Either he was asleep or he was pointedly not saying anything. Bastian was furious. How could Falcor expect him to just leave? But he knew that he had to leave…just like he had left his father in the other world… 

The tears escaped and slid down his cheeks as he clenched the fist that wasn't being held by the Empress. "Goodbye, Falcor," he whispered, and turned away, following the Empress. Leaving his friend. 

Falcor said nothing, but watched them leave through one tired eye. 

*** 

"It's just too sudden," Bastian said. "I mean, one minute he was fine, and the next he's not. I don't get it." 

"I don't understand, either," the Empress replied. "But if I had to guess, I would say that Falcor meant for us to go on alone no matter what. I don't know why, because we could certainly use his help. I don't even know where to look, do you?" 

"No, but we can ask. Aren't there villages around here?" 

"I don't know…" she replied, feeling very uncertain. She loved her Fantasia…but had she ever really been out in it? Did she know where anything was? Some part of her mind told her that at one time, she might have…but that seemed like ages ago, when ages shouldn't mean anything to her." 

"Empress, don't worry, it will work out," Bastian said, laying a hand on her shoulder. She stared up at him and tried to smile. It was sweet of him to try to be optimistic. 

"We just need a miracle," she replied. 

"Miracles happen here all the time. I remember." 

She looked away. "Not since you left…" she whispered. He heard her, but said nothing. He walked away, his mind filled with confusion. 

"Look," he said. "I understand now that this situation is more serious than I thought. But that doesn't mean we can't lick it, right? Remember the Nothing?" 

She nodded. How could she forget? 

"It was hopeless then, too. This is the small stuff. So what if everyone is growing old? People in my world grow old every day and there's nothing we can do to stop it. But _here_…this place is different. There's something wrong, here, and we can fix it." 

She nodded again, a little bit more convincingly. He was convinced, at least for now. 

"Let's go," he said. 

*** 

As they walked, however, his mind took over once again and he found himself on the verge of giving himself a nervous breakdown. He couldn't stop imagining Falcor lying there, alone and dying. He knew Falcor would not feign something that serious…and for Falcor to even have a cough was unheard of. It chilled Bastian to the bone to think that a luck dragon could lose his luck. What did it say for the rest of them? 

What if something happened to the Empress? It would be his fault for bringing her…no, his fault for encouraging her to come. He would be responsible for killing the ruler of the imaginary world. In her currently mortal state she could be susceptible to anything. 

And the thought had occurred to him that he might be affected, too. 

He felt another headache coming on. 

Her voice eventually broke through his thoughts when she said, "The trees…" 

"Huh?" 

She didn't look at him as she kept walking, her eyes looking up at the branches. "The trees…they are dying, too." 

"Don't trees grow old?" he asked. 

"Of course they do. But I can…I can sense that they are in pain." 

She stopped, and he stopped beside her. She looked up again and sighed. "Can't you hear their cries?" 

He listened, and could only hear the wind. But even it sounded like a terrible moaning as it passed through the branches. The rustling of the leaves sounded like thousands of tears falling to the earth. He shuddered, trying to overcome the feeling of dread he felt in his heart. 

"Let's keep moving," he said. 

Before they could move another step, Bastian was knocked down by a blurry streak that pushed past them at lightening speed. He could barely even regroup his thoughts before he heard the Empress scream. Acting out of sheer instincts, Bastian lunged for the blurry streak that moved way too fast for him, and somehow managed to grab ahold of a piece of clothing, also knocking him to the ground. He heard a loud "Umph!" 

The Empress, driven purely by fear and desperation, picked up a fallen wooden branch and held it at ready. 

The perpetrator managed to loose himself from Bastian's grasp and ran a short distance away before looking back at them. Bastian saw his face, and gasped. 

He had never seen anything like it. He didn't even know if it was male or female, but it definitely had a male look to it. Large, dark eyes stared at both of them cautiously. It was light-skinned with a mixture of fur and scales. It had pointy ears and wore a very light tunic. Bastian was amazed, but was still angry. 

"What was that for?" he asked. "If you were in such a hurry, all you had to do was go around us, you know." 

The thing looked at Bastian and seemed to smile. "If I had gone around," it said, its voice raspy and also unclear. "I would not have been able to obtain this." 

It held up the object in its clawed hand and the Empress gasped, reaching for where it should have been around her neck. "That's my amulet!" she cried. "Give it back!"  
  


"I cannot," the thing replied. "If you catch me you can have it back." Without another word, it sped off. 

The Empress went to run after it, but stopped when Bastian cried after her. "Wait!" he called. "You'll never be able to take him on." 

"I've got to get my amulet back!" she cried. "Get up, will you, we've got to go after it!" 

He struggled to his feet, feeling shaken. "Give me a second, geez. What do you need that amulet for, anyway?" 

"It only contains a manifestation of my power," she replied coolly. "Fallen into the wrong hands, which never would have been an issue, it can do great damage." 

He stared at her. "What does it do?" 

"I don't want to find out. If you don't, either, I suggest we get moving." 

*** 

"Why didn't you just tell him who you were?" Bastian asked as they walked. 

"I don't want people to know who I am." 

He was confused. "Why not?" 

She gestured her hand at herself. "Need I say more?" 

"So what if you look different? You're still you." 

"It's not the same. My people know the Child-like Empress. I am no longer child-like." 

He stared at her appreciatively. "That's for sure." 

She gave him a look that said she wasn't amused, and he looked away, blushing. Well, he couldn't help but appreciate the new and improved body of the Empress. She was beautiful. He was also an adult now…and he appreciated those kinds of things. 

"Look, a village," she pointed out. He followed her line of sight and smiled. He could clearly see houses in the distance. 

"I bet that's where that freak went," he said. "We'll get your amulet back." 

*** 

"Or not…" 

Bastian stood at the entrance of the village…and looked down. Hundreds of tiny houses dotted the ground, and he immediately knew where he was. And when he heard that same familiar little voice, his suspicions were verified. 

"Bastian! I didn't think you'd ever come back!" 

A horde of little people came rushing towards them and Bastian recognized Glukuk, the snail-rider, leading the pack. His friend stopped at Bastian's feet, and Bastian knelt to see him better. 

"It's good to see you again, Glukuk," Bastian replied. "I don't know how you recognized me looking like I do now." 

"We would know you anywhere," Glukuk said with a snort. "You could be an old man and you'd still be the boy we know and love. I'm sure you've heard about the situation here." 

Bastian nodded. "I'm here to help. And so is the Em – I mean, so is my friend, here. Her name is, uh…" He racked his brain, trying to think of a name. Déjà vu, all over again…once again trying to find a name for the Empress. He couldn't use Moonchild, people would still know who she was. She was chewing her lip, looking very nervous. Finally he just decided on one. "This is Emilia. I picked her up on my travels." 

Glukuk eyed her closely for a moment, suspicious. "There's something familiar about her," he said, rubbing his chin. "Have we met before?" 

"I don't think so," the Empress replied and smiled a shaky smile. Bastian could tell this was going to be fun. 

"She's kind of shy. And forgetful," he said. She gave him a dirty look but said nothing. Glukuk seemed convinced for the moment. 

"Listen, Glukuk, we're looking for a weird-looking fellow that might have passed through here. He stole her amulet, and we're going to get it back. Have you seen him?" 

"Kind of creepy looking?" Glukuk asked. "Patchy skin?" 

"Yeah, that's him." 

"Yup, he breezed right through here, but didn't steal anything. He just asked for a drink of water and left." 

"Where was he headed." 

"North. Towards the Crystal Mountains." 

Bastian smiled. "Thanks, Glukuk. We've got to be going. Wish us well." 

"Good luck, Bastian," Glukuk said, and waved until they were out of sight. 


End file.
